


Castellan Garak and His Boytoy Julian Bashir

by EdosianOrchids901



Series: Plain Simple Prompts [17]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Garak being obstinate and fussy, M/M, POV Elim Garak, POV First Person, Post-Canon Cardassia, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15939389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchids901/pseuds/EdosianOrchids901
Summary: Prompt: Garak ignores his work as castellan because he's more focused on his "boytoy" looking pretty.





	Castellan Garak and His Boytoy Julian Bashir

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of ficlets based on dialogue prompts from Tumblr. Written 2/18.

A bit tighter here… Let this out just a tad… Sleeves… hmm, sleeves could be a bit shorter. 

Julian gave me a long-suffering look. “Elim, you do realize the party is tonight, don’t you?”

“Mhm.” I crouched down, running my hand across his hip and down his thigh. Yes, that would do just fine. A flattering fit, while loose enough to be comfortable. “But it’s not a party, my dear. It’s a diplomatic function.”

“We’re dressing up, there will be food and drinks, dancing, and a lot of people neither of us like. It’s a party.” He sounded distinctly unimpressed.

My mouth twitched into a smile. “Now, come, Doctor. You used to adore parties.”

“Yeah, when I was at least a decade younger and the parties weren’t full of politicians.” After a moment’s contemplation, he made a face. “Although, half of the ones on DS9 were full of politicians, too.”

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

He gave a short sigh as I tugged at the bottom of his jacket. “I’m not worried about the party, I’m worried that you won’t be done with this outfit in time if you keep fussing like this.”

“Oh? And I thought my fussiness was endearing.”

Fingers brushed across the top of my head. “It is, but it wouldn’t do to be late. You are the castellan, after all.”

“Then shouldn’t the party wait for me?”

Julian groaned, rubbing his forehead. “You’re so insufferable. Why did I marry you?” 

“My charm?” I stood again, stepping behind him to investigate his collar.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact that we need to go soon.”

“Mm.” I skimmed my fingers down his back, satisfied with the fit of his jacket, as least. “Jacket off, please.”

“What?” He turned to face me, now looking exasperated. “Garak, we have to leave! You can’t just keep making adjustments all night.”

I gave him a broad smile, along with a few innocent blinks. After a moment, he heaved a sigh and shrugged the jacket off. 

“Thank you, dear heart.” I bent closer, checking the clasps, the hems. All seemed to be more or less in order, at least, but I could see a few things that needed work. “Would you be so kind as to take off the shirt?”

With another aggravated sigh, he slipped out of it and handed it over. “You’re never gonna finish this.”

“I will, be patient.” I sank into my chair, focused on the rich blue fabric. 

He leaned on the edge of my desk, crossing his arms as he watched me work. After a bit, he commented, “Garak, I think you honestly enjoy this.”

“Well, quite frankly, I do sometimes miss my shop.” Glancing up, I saw that he was giving me a skeptical look. “I know, I know… Exile was complete torture for me, but still. There was something about occupying my time creating outfits that was satisfying and rewarding.”

Julian blinked at me, his expression indulgent. “When it wasn’t almost killing you, anyway.”

“I’m aware that it’s not entirely rational.” I smoothed the fabric, double checking my work. “Still.”

He’d just opened his mouth to reply when Akret, my aide, burst into my office. She gave me a look bordering on horrified. “Sir! What do you think you’re doing?”

I blinked at her. “Making a suit for my beloved, of course.”

She pressed her fingers across her eyes, as if I was giving her a headache. “Castellan, you’re supposed to be looking over my reports!”

“I’m sorry, are your reports more important than keeping my boytoy pretty? We do have a diplomatic function tonight, after all.” I lifted my chin, offering a wide smile. 

Julian choked on his tea, coughing and spluttering. Amused, I directed my smile at him, and he flushed bright red. 

Akret took a deep breath. “Yes! Yes, they are. You need to read them before the function tonight so you have a clue what’s going on.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree. I’m sure I can improvise.” I went back to my sewing. 

She didn’t move. After a silence that seemed to be awkward for everyone but me, Julian input, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he looks them over while we’re in the skimmer.”

“Please do.” Seemingly at least somewhat satisfied, she returned to her office. 

Struggling to hide my smile, I made a few more minor adjustments to the shirt. Akret was an excellent aide, in part because she was willing to deal with my stubborn streak. 

“Boytoy?” Julian queried. “Really, Elim?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Garak, we’re married.” 

“Yes, quite.” I stood, shaking out his shirt. “All right, I believe we’re set. If you’d be so good as to put this back on.”

Julian shook his head with that signature look of combined fondness and exasperation. “God, you’re so ridiculous. And it’s been years since I was boyish, at least according to you.”

I interrupted my examination of his outfit to gently stroke my fingertips across his beard, which was peppered with grey. “You’ve only grown more stunning to me over the years, my dear Julian.”

He blushed, grinning as he captured my face in his hands. “And you’re still an outrageous flirt, my dear Elim.”

“Mm.” I kissed him, and then drew back. He looked gorgeous, his trim, lanky figure accented by the suit I’d made. “This looks excellent on you, if I do say so myself.”

“You always were a good tailor.” He looked over himself in the mirror, smiling. “This is great. Thanks, love.”

Beaming, I took his arm. “And now, off we go.”


End file.
